


I'd Tap That

by ohfiitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Less Than 5k Exchange, Morse Code, SHIELD Academy Era, i don't even know bruh, so maybe fluff?, they say dumb things to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/ohfiitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons has a crush on the ultimate worst person in the world, and resorts to using a "secret" code to air her frustrations to her best friend Bobbi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Tap That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newbie93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/gifts).



> This is my Less than 5k gift for the lovely shieldsil on Tumblr, whose prompt was 'You did _not_ just say that.' Also inspired by the tumblr prompt “i use morse code to talk to my friend during class but it turns out you know morse code too and now you know that i think you have a cute butt” au. This is super short I'M SORRY but I hope you like it! ❤

If you asked Jemma three months ago about her nemesis Leopold Fitz, she would have said – with the kind of seething conviction only Jemma Simmons can express with a smile – that he’s too smug and too smart and too sure of himself and too… _Fitz_ for his own good and everyone else’s.

 

But that was before chem lab, where they were paired up and he surprised her with his bright blue eyes and his unexpected shyness. That was before she had the chance to witness firsthand how he worked, eyes fixed intently on whatever project has captured his attention, lips pressed together and his remarkably nice hands flexing and shifting seamlessly with the confidence of an artisan dedicated to his craft. That was before she started stuttering like an idiot whenever she tries to fire him one of the hundred retorts she had been preparing for months.

 

If you asked Jemma Simmons three months ago about her stupid, absolutely terrible, no-good nemesis Leopold Fitz, she would’ve said that she hated him. But that was before she found herself harboring a crush on the one person she was supposed to hate.

 

It has been quite an inconvenience, actually. She had the perfect plan to destroy that impish Scot. But now all she can do around him is stare at his hands and watch the sunlight cascade through his soft curls and act like a blushing schoolgirl. And it’s downright stupid, because Jemma Simmons is not one to crush on tiny, shy engineers. Not when she has _legions_ of tall, muscled, grown-up men waiting to flirt with her at the Boiler Room on Fridays.

 

Jemma sighs as she drags herself to her History of S.H.I.E.L.D. class, folding her hands across her chest as she drops to a seat beside her best friend Bobbi.

 

“Alright. Spill.” Bobbi says, leaning forward and pinning her with an all too knowing glare as Professor Vaughn takes his place at the podium and starts droning on about the early days of the SSR.

 

“It’s nothing, Bobbi. I’m just tired.” Jemma groans, waving her hand dismissively and pretending to focus her attention on the professor. Which is entirely unnecessary, given that she had memorized every single milestone of Peggy Carter’s life even before she arrived at the Academy. She presses her lips together, silently wishing for the 0.01% chance that Bobbi would buy her pathetic excuse.

 

Of course, she doesn’t.

 

Bobbi just leans closer to her, smile widening and voice lowering to a whisper.  

 

“Is it Fitz? Has he realized you have a thing for him?” Bobbi raises an eyebrow suggestively and Jemma wonders for a moment if ‘ _offensive and untrue accusations of being attracted to the enemy_ ’ is an acceptable cause of cardiac arrest on her health record.

 

“Wha– what? A thing? Fitz and I? We never… I never dreamed.. _Honestly_ Bob _,_ I don’t know how you–”

 

“Okay, I'm just gonna stop you right there. If this were an interrogation, you'd have given me about nine visual cues to put you away. Maybe ten.”

 

“Look.” Jemma lets out a frustrated sigh, not knowing how to proceed with the conversation, especially when she knows that Fitz is sitting somewhere in the row behind them. If only Bobbi Morse wasn’t such an excellent spy, she wouldn’t have to– _wait. Bobbi Morse. Morse. That’s it!_

 

Jemma coughs pointedly to catch Bobbi’s gaze, then moves her eyes downward to indicate her tapping fingers. Bobbi smiles in understanding and watches with rapt attention as Jemma’s fingers drum a decipherable pattern on their shared desk. Soon, the two are exchanging seemingly pointless taps on the wooden surface.

 

_It’s stupid. I think I’m attracted to him._

 

_And this is a problem because?_

 

_It doesn’t make sense! I’m supposed to destroy him, not waste my time appreciating his cute arse._

 

_He has a cute ass?_

 

_He does! It’s so pert and round and I bet it would feel good in my hands._

 

“Jemma Simmons, you did _not_ just say that!”

 

“Well technically, I tapped it.”

 

“Not the point. What I’m saying is– oh God.”

 

“What?”

 

_He’s staring at you._

 

Jemma whips her head to where she knows Fitz is seated, and sure enough, he's gaping at her with those big blue eyes, his expression a rather worrying mix of panic and confusion and... shyness? She cocks her head and studies him, punctuating the gesture with a smug click of her tongue. _Poor, silly Fitz. He might've studied the wrong chapter last night._

 

She gives a little shrug his way then turns back to pretending to listen to the professor.

 

_Well, at least I’m not the only one who’s distracted._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fitz grunts as he buries his face into his pillow, trying to figure out just what the hell happened in Professor Vaughn's class.

 

It’s simply impossible.

 

He overheard (oversaw?) Jemma Simmons compliment his “pert and round arse.” Jemma. Simmons. Or so he thinks. Surely, _surely_ he was just dreaming. He must’ve downed a tad too many cups of coffee while revising last night that he’s started hallucinating things. Because there’s just no way Jemma with-two-PhDs-and-the-prettiest-smile-in-the-world Simmons would even give him so much as a second glance (and seriously _-_ Morse Code? She’s far too smart to use that as a form of secret communication in a school full of bloody _spies_ ).

 

He lets out another groan before rolling off his bed and hastily throwing on one of the gray shirts littered on the floor. After another twenty minutes of making frustrated whimpers and stealing glances at his own reflection (is it really _that_ round?), he finally works up enough courage to venture out into the social battlefield commonly known as the Boiler Room. And really, all he wanted was to talk to Jemma, maybe try to strike a friendship. After all, they’ll be lab partners for the rest of the school year and they’ve spent far too much time treating each other with bare civility.

 

He’s even got a plan and everything. An entire sheet of legal pad paper filled to the margin with every clever line he could find on the internet. But he’s caught unawares when Jemma somehow appears in front of him, wearing a purple dress that’s way tighter and shorter than what she usually wears, and all three months of preparation are rendered useless as he blurts out the very last thing he wanted to say:

 

“Your butt is also nice.”

 

“What.”

 

“What?!” _Shite._ “Um. I mean. You – you have a nice… Not that I _look_ at your– okay, never mind. You’re gorgeous?”

 

“Fitz, are you drunk?”

 

“No! No, uh, I...” He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. _You’re a genius, damn it._  “Look. I understood your conversation with Bobbi earlier. I mean, it’s not like Morse Code is a difficult code to decipher. It’s quite simple, really. You might want to come up with another–”

 

“Fitz.”

 

“Okay.The point is, I knew what you said. About me.”

 

“Oh.” She turns a bright shade of pink and Fitz silently curses himself for being turned on by _that._ “Well that is… inconvenient.”

 

Inconvenient. The word strikes him like a brick to his dumb, stupid head. _It’s inconvenient because it’s not true. She was probably just messing with you, you dummy._ He contemplates pretending to be drunk so he would have an excuse to just sink to the floor, but then Jemma takes two steps towards him until she’s right _there_ , close enough for their bodies to touch in the slightest manner. She flashes him a coy smile and his mind stops registering anything else after that. Maybe he _is_ drunk after all.

 

After several seconds of utter confusion, he feels her warm hand settle on his forearm, and he soon realizes that she’s tapping a gentle rhythm on his skin.

 

_But I mean it._

 

Her touch sends a chilling pulse through his veins and up his spine, but the shock of her words is even stronger. Fitz tilts his head down to meet her eyes, and the way she’s looking at him betrays the confident glide of her fingers across his arm.

 

She’s nervous. And expectant. And for the first time since he first felt the pull of those bright eyes and light freckles and those rosy, plump lips, he allows himself to fall.

 

The kiss is everything he ever wanted and never really imagined _._ She tightens her grip on his arm and presses the tiniest bit up her toes to meet him, and her lips meld with his with so much easiness that he thinks he might have done this a million times in his past life. Her tongue swipes gently across his bottom lip and he hears himself moan, the sound reminding him that he is finally, _finally_ kissing Jemma Simmons. He grins against her lips and pulls back just slightly, feeling her match his smile.

 

“I mean it too, by the way,” he mutters, and she quirks an eyebrow, urging him to go on. “You’re gorgeous. And brilliant. And amazing. Quite perfect, really. I never even dreamed–”

 

“ _Fitz._ ” Jemma cuts him off, smiling widely and still looking a bit shy, which is odd, considering that they’ve just practically snogged each other right in the middle of the Boiler Room. “Thank you. But I mean… really?”

 

Fitz answers by leaning back down to capture her lips, alternating between long, deep kisses and soft, tiny pecks, hoping she figures out what he’s trying to say.

 

_Yes._

  
  


 


End file.
